Mediterranean Tycoons. JACQUELINE BAIRD
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and constructed in pale pink streaked marble, it held a large double shower and a circular spa bath. Plus all the usual facilities. The lingering scent of Alex hung on the air, making her catch her breath.
She did not linger in the shower and, as she had washed her hair that morning, five minutes later she entered the dressing room, a towel wrapped around her slender curves, and selected fresh briefs and quickly slipped them on.
Seated at the dressing table, she twisted the long length of her hair into a high pleat on the back of her head. With the deft use of a few pins, she quickly had a very fashionable hairstyle. She pulled a few tendrils of hair loose around her face and the back of her neck and surveyed the finished result. Sophisticated, but not too contrived, she thought, and then began applying her make-up.
Rising to her feet, she crossed to the cupboards that ran the full length of two walls.
Sliding open one of the doors, she withdrew the gown she had hung there the night before, ready for this evening’s dinner party. She eyed the dress with dismay. When she had bought it in a boutique in Stratford she had thought it was perfect, with stiletto-heeled evening shoes and a purse dyed to match. The whole ensemble was suitable for a sophisticated lady wanting to seduce her husband. Now she was not so sure. But realistically she had nothing else; the clothes she had packed were day and casual wear. So, unless she wanted to meet Alex’s father in trousers or a business suit, she had no choice.
She stepped into the blue gown and pulled the zip up its side. It was a simple sheath; the bodice had a bra built in and was cut straight across her breasts in a band of delicately beaded embroidery, revealing the soft swell of her breasts. The rest stuck to her like a second skin, to end some six inches above her knees in another band of beading. She slipped her feet into the shoes, then quickly slipped pearl studs into her ear lobes, and fastened the matching string of pearls around her throat. She dabbed some of her favourite perfume behind her ears and the back of her knees. Straightening, she turned towards the mirror to cast her reflection a brief glance.
‘Wow, that is some dress.’
Lisa turned at the sound of Alex’s voice, and felt her breath catch at the image he presented. He was still only wearing jeans, and his hand had obviously been ruffling his hair, but there was something about his stance, a sense of predatory strength as his dark eyes swept down over her curvaceous body and lingered for an instant on the long length of her legs before returning to her face. The deepening gleam of sexual desire turned his eyes to black as they clashed with hers.
‘Maybe we should forget dinner,’ Alex murmured, stepping towards her, his intention obvious.
‘You’d better hurry up and get dressed, or we’ll be late,’ she retaliated, as she deftly sidestepped around him. He stopped her with a hand on her arm.
‘Your’re right; I got trapped on the telephone. Be a sweetheart and mix me a whisky and soda. I have a feeling I am going to need it tonight.’
‘What about driving?’ she murmured.
‘Bert is driving us there, and we will grab a taxi back; no need for the old boy to have a late night.’
A few minutes later, she walked back into the bedroom, a glass of whisky and soda in her hand. She stopped inside the door. Alex was slipping on the jacket of his dinner suit, and he turned at her entrance.
‘Thanks, Lisa.’ He moved to her side and took the glass from her hand; his fingers brushed hers and sent a swift jolt of electricity up her arm. He was devastatingly attractive at any time, but wearing a superbly cut dinner suit, with his black hair slicked back from his broad forehead, he exuded an aura of powerful male magnetism that few men possessed. She watched as he raised the glass to his mouth and drained it. She was fascinated by the way his strong tanned throat moved when he swallowed, and only realised she was staring when he spoke.
‘Come on, Lisa, we’re cutting it fine as it is.’
At the hotel the doorman opened the car door almost before it had stopped. Taking a deep breath, Lisa alighted with some elegance, and before she could even take a step Alex was at her side, his hand under her elbow to guide her inside…
WALKING from the brightness of the fine June evening into the darkened interior of the hotel Lisa was blinded for a second, and she stumbled slightly. Alex tightened his grip on her arm.
‘You did not hit the whisky as well, I hope,’ he quipped, his dark eyes laughing down at her in easy intimacy.
The charm of his smile squeezed her heart. ‘No,’ she snapped, scared by the emotion he could so easily arouse in her. ‘Though being blackmailed by one’s husband is reason enough for anyone to hit the bottle,’ she informed him with sweet sarcasm.
‘Blackmailed?’ His brows drew together in a frown. ‘Ah, you mean your beloved stepfamily. I was in a hurry this morning and I said the first thing that came into my head.’
‘So you say,’ she murmured. ‘But it worked. I’m here at your side instead of at home in Stratford.’ She didn’t know why she was needling him, and as for her stepfamily, Nigel was certainly not her beloved anything…
‘Your home is with me,’ Alex said, his grip on her arm tightening. ‘Now drop this stupid conversation. This evening—’ He stopped in mid-sentence. Lisa followed the direction of his gaze and felt her heart sink in her chest.
Some thirty feet away but moving towards them was a tall, overweight, grey-haired man. The family likeness was unmistakable; it had to be Alex’s father. By his side was a young woman, dark-haired and beautiful, thirty-something, and moreover someone Lisa had met before.
‘Damn, I thought I had frightened the woman off,’ Alex swore, his dark eyes narrowing intently on the approaching couple.
Lisa straightened her shoulders and shrugged off Alex’s supporting hand. ‘Obviously not. Fiona Fife, I believe, another one of your lady-friends.’ She was determined to act the sophisticate tonight in front of Alex and his father, but she had a horrible feeling it was not going to be so easy, especially if she was going to keep bumping into her husband’s mistresses at every turn!
Alex glanced at her, his dark eyes clashing with her angry blue. ‘I do believe you’re jealous,’ he prompted softly.
Lisa gave a slight shrug, pretending indifference. ‘Should I be?’ she asked lightly, and held his gaze with difficulty.
‘No. You are the only girl for me, darling, plus I am not old enough for that particular lady,’ he drawled mockingly, with a brief glance at the other couple. Tilting his head towards Lisa, he added, sotto voce, ‘It is my father she has designs on. She is hopeful of becoming wife number six. Our Italian friend informed me of that at that party we attended in Monte Carlo. I did try to warn her off, with tales of his weak heart and nowhere near as much money as she imagines, but it looks like I failed.’ His firm mouth twisted in a wry grimace. ‘Not for the first time, unfortunately.’
Inexplicably, Lisa’s spirits lifted considerably at his words. Now she knew why he had danced with the woman when they were on their honeymoon, and somehow it made her feel a whole lot better.
‘Brace yourself, here they come.’ Alex slid his arm around her waist and urged her forward. ‘Father,’ he greeted the older man warmly. ‘It’s been a while.’
‘Indeed it has,’ the older man agreed. ‘You’ve met Fiona?’ He indicated the woman at his side, and both Alex and Lisa gave a social smile and said hello to the black-haired beauty.
‘And this must be your wife.’ Mr Solomos senior’s dark eyes were so like his sons as he scrutinised Lisa from head to toe, and then he broke out into a broad grin. ‘Charming, absolutely beautiful. Though you could have told me, Alex. I thought I was the only one who married quickly in our family. Obviously you have inherited some of my traits